


Altean Soap Stings like a B*tch

by AppyNation



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Infection, Whump, poor boi doesn't know how to get help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppyNation/pseuds/AppyNation
Summary: Prompt: Lance gets a cut on his leg and chooses to hide it. Gets infected. Fever ensues.





	Altean Soap Stings like a B*tch

It had been a relatively straight-forward mission. Get in. Get the intel. Get out. Sure they had to take out a small Galra fleet or two but hell, that was child’s play to them by now. Though true to Lance fashion, he had gotten a bit  _ too _ cocky, and wound up taking a good slice to the thigh by one of the sentries before it was shot down by Hunk.   
  
“Nice shot, buddy!” Lance called out loud enough to hide the whimper of pain that laced his words as he turned away. He looked down at the slightly red-tinted fabric of his under armor, cursing under his breath as he shook it off to fire his blaster a few more times. It wasn’t that bad, he could still move his leg. No need to make a big deal out of it.    
  
“Alright, team! Pidge got the information, back to your lions!”    
  
Giving Hunk a look and a nod, they made a dash back to their lions, Lance’s cut throbbing with every slap of his shoes on the cool metal floors. As soon as he got into the cockpit, he took a second to inspect the gash further. It wasn’t bleeding badly, and it wasn’t too deep, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like a  _ mother-- _

“Okay, body count. Is everyone alright?” Shiro called through the comms as the lions made their way back to the castleship.

“That was  _ intense _ !” Pidge laughed, their adrenaline obviously still pumping. “Yeah, I’m fine! Thanks to Shiro, he saved my ass--”

“ _ Pidge _ .”

“--butt a few times!” 

“ _ Thank you. _ ” 

Hunk was chuckling. “Lance and I had a couple close calls but I’m okay!” 

The next laugh came from Keith. “Did you see how many of those sentries I took out?? I bet I beat your count by a country  _ mile,  _ Lance.” 

Silence. 

“Lance?”

Lance jolted up from the bent position he had taken examining his wound. If everyone else was fine, he would be fine too. Besides, it wasn’t even that deep of a cut. He’d wash it with some soap and water in his room later, and call it good. “Yeah! Here! I’m all good!” Lance called with his most confident, unwavering voice.

The team hesitated, but collectively blamed everything on exhaustion. They all were tired, and deserved the rest they so desperately needed once they got back to the ship.

 

\--

So, turns out, Altean soap stings like a  _ bitch _ . 

After initially trying to wash out the wound-- and downright screaming at the feeling-- he vowed he was never doing that again. He simply washed away the dried blood with water, wrapped it tightly with a bandage, and continued with his life. It would just heal, right? That’s what bodies do. They heal. Everything would be right as rain.

When Lance awoke a few days later, it became apparent how wrong he was. 

As soon as he came out of the clutches sleep had on him, he sucked in a harsh breath on the burning heat emanating from his leg. He immediately brought his hand down, hesitantly touching the sore area on his thigh as he let out a whimper.

Okay… maybe this was more severe than he thought.

He shook his head and slowly pulled himself up out of his bed. He had to steady himself on the wall for a moment, his head spinning. The rational side of his brain screamed at him to go for help. The rational side of his brain  _ begged  _ him to tell his teammates what had happened, so he could get the  _ correct  _ medical treatment. But did Lance ever willingly listen to that side of his brain? Not when he knew he’d be scolded. Especially by Shiro. Sure, that may have sounded like a childish excuse, but Lance knew he should’ve told someone earlier. They were bound to yell at him. Tell him that he had made  _ another  _ mistake, on top of the piles of previous ones. 

So, slowly, he changed into his paladin armor. He decided not to change the bandage this morning, mainly due to the fact that he really didn’t want to touch it. It had taken everything he had to change his pants, let alone try to tug a dried bandage off of it. He took a few deep breaths to calm the spinning, forcing his stomach to settle as he headed for team training. 

\--

“Alright, good work team. Lance, Keith, you’re up!”

Lance took a breath and drug himself up onto the mat. Somehow he’d managed to feel ten times worse just from  _ watching  _ Hunk and Pidge spar. His head felt like bulls were crashing through it, not to mention he was freezing. Had they turned the AC up? He weakly gripped his hands into fists as he tried to focus on Keith, though every few seconds one Keith would suddenly become two.

He barely registered that Shiro had called for them to begin the spar, or that Keith was suddenly right on him. Everything finally clicked in enough time for him to stumble back, wincing against the added pressure on his leg as he narrowly avoided one of Keith’s attacks.

“Focus, Lance! Keep up that defense!” Shiro called out from the sidelines.

Lance was already panting against his helmet, having to correct his stance every time he dodged an incoming blow so he didn’t fall over. The pain, along with the constant movement and dizzying gaze was beginning to make the corners of his sight darken. He was about to call for a time-out, a surrender,  _ anything  _ for this to stop before Keith’s foot finally made contact. Right on his wounded thigh.

He had opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t register if anything had come out or not. All he knew was one moment he was standing, and the next he was waking up on the floor with four pairs of wide, concerned eyes over him. 

“...-eith, we’re not supposed to use full force in these exercises!”

“I-- I didn’t even kick him that hard!” 

“What…” Lance mumbled as he felt someone pull off his helmet, the cool air nice against his warm face though it did nothing to suppress the chills that racked the rest of his body. A hand swept his damp hair back and felt his forehead with a hiss. 

“He’s running a fever.” Shiro muttered.

“He’s sick??” Keith asked incredulously, “Lance, why the hell didn’t you--”

“Not sick.” he forced out, biting the bullet as he reached down toward the stitched up spot in his flight suit. Shiro followed his hand down as he spotted the fixed tear. He pulled up the fabric away from Lance’s skin as he instructed Keith to cut it. It only took a slight rip after that for them to all gasp. The bandage was covered in blood, and Shiro knew that probably wasn’t even the half of it. If Lance had a fever, there’s a good chance this was an infection. He muttered a curse under his breath and hoisted Lance in his arms, “Pidge, contact Coran and the Princess. We’re going to need a healing pod,  _ now. _ ”

Lance didn’t remember much about the trek from the training room to the cryopods; just panicked talking, the feeling of getting placed inside one of the freezing chambers, and the insurmountable guilt of not telling them sooner. 


End file.
